United
by paperstorm
Summary: The tag for 'Devil's Trap', 1x22. Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Tame Wincest.


**Contains dialogue from the episode 'Devil's Trap', it belongs to Eric Kripke.**

****Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page :)****

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><p>Sam flips idly through the old book, not really looking for something in particular, just anything that might be useful. It's sort of amazing, <em>Bobby<em> is sort of amazing. Sam kind of can't believe they haven't thought to ask for his help before now. The sheer volume of the books in that library of his alone could probably have helped them out of more than a few jams in the last year. Maybe they could even have found the demon sooner. It pisses Sam off a little to think of all the people they could've been collaborating with on their search for the thing that tore their family apart, if Dad hadn't routinely burned every bridge he's ever crossed. If he felt like being an asshole and rehashing the fight they had just yesterday about their differing opinions when it comes to their father, Sam could ask Dean why he thinks it is that every relationship Dad's ever had seems to have ended with one party threatening to shoot the other. But Dean's got enough to deal with right now, they both do, so Sam keeps his mouth shut.

Dean hasn't said a word since they left Bobby's, and it's starting to worry Sam a little bit. He knows exactly what's running through Dean's mind right now – how are they going to get Dad back, what if he's already dead, how are they going to find the demon if it decides to disappear again – because it's the same stuff that's currently spinning through Sam's head like a broken record. He can barely even let himself think about it, let alone talk about it, but they're going to have to because they need a plan. He knows Dean will probably just get mad if Sam tries to bring any of it up, but he has to. It's not Dean yelling at him that Sam's worried about. It's the horrible, looming thought that if the worst happens and something goes really wrong, him and Dean won't come out okay on the other side, and not just physically. It's a stupid thing to be worrying about right now, Sam knows that, but things have been so good between them lately and he almost can't bear the thought of that changing.

"You've been quiet," he says, glancing over at his brother.

Dean loads a pistol and drops it into the trunk. "Just gettin' ready."

"He's gonna be fine, Dean."

Dean doesn't answer, so Sam doesn't push. He turns another page in the book and reads a few sentences, picking it up and grabbing the chalk. He wipes the dried mud off one corner of the trunk and starts drawing the sigil on it.

"Dude, what're you drawing on my car?" Dean snaps.

"It's called a Devil's Trap. Demons can't get through it or inside it."

"So?"

"It basically turns the trunk into a lock box."

"So?" Dean repeats angrily.

"So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad."

Dean frowns. "What're you talking about, we're bringing the Colt with us."

"We can't, Dean. We've only got three bullets left," Sam points out. "We can't just use 'em on any demon, we gotta use 'em on _the_ demon."

"No, we have to save Dad, Sam," Dean argues, walking around the car to stand closer to Sam. "We're gonna need all the help we can get!"

"Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets? Dean, he wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"I don't care, Sam!" Dean explodes. "I don't care what Dad wants, okay? And since when do _you_ care what Dad wants?"

"_We_ wanna kill this demon! You used to want that too!" Sam cries. "Hell, I mean, you're the one who came and got me at school! You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean! I'm just trying to finish it!"

Dean nods. He's smiling, but it's not a happy smile. "Boy, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? _I'm_ gonna be the one to bury you! You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true, Dean."

Dean laughs humorlessly.

"I want Dad back. But they are expecting us to bring this gun," Sam continues. "They get the gun, they will kill us all! That Colt is our only leverage, and you know it, Dean. We can not bring that gun. We can't."

"Fine," Dean grumbles.

"I'm serious, Dean!"

"I said fine, Sam!" Dean barks. He pulls the Colt out of his jacket pocket and tosses it into the trunk, throwing another glare in Sam's direction before turning away and shoving a few other guns into his bag.

"Dean," Sam tries softly. He still thinks he's right about the Colt, but he hates it when they fight.

"Don't," Dean growls, and Sam sighs.

He goes back to the sigils, making sure they're perfect replicas of the picture in the book. If even one small detail is off, they won't work, and then they'll have no hope of getting Dad back _or_ killing the demon. Dean keeps nosily packing his bag full of whatever random weapons he can find in the trunk, and Sam puts the book down on the back seat and waits. They're not done with this conversation, he can tell, but he's leaving it up to Dean to make the next move, because probably nothing Sam says would be the right thing right now.

"Do you wish I hadn't?" Dean finally asks quietly, his back still turned so Sam barely hears him.

"Hadn't what?"

"You said I'm the one who came and got you at school, I'm the one who dragged you back into this. Do you wish I hadn't?" Dean glances just briefly over his shoulder, and there's almost unbearable sadness in his eyes.

Sam deflates inside, like the air being let out of a balloon. "What? No, god, no. Of course I don't. How can you think that?"

Dean shrugs and turns away again, so Sam steps toward him and puts his hand on the middle of Dean's back. Dean's shoulders tense at Sam's touch, so he lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"I _did_ drag you back into this," Dean mumbles. "This is my fault. You were out, I … I should've left you alone."

"Stop it," Sam says sharply. "It isn't your fault, none of it is."

Dean scoffs, so Sam grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to turn around and face him.

"How?" he asks. "How is it your fault?"

"Sam," Dean mutters, rolling his eyes a little, but Sam doesn't back down.

"No. You need to explain it to me. You're so hell-bent on blaming everything on yourself, so fine. Let me in on it, then. Tell me exactly how anything that's happening right now is your fault."

Dean closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward, and Sam can't hold himself back. He crooks a finger under Dean's chin and tilts his head back up, and then he leans down and kisses the frown that's twisting Dean's forehead. Dean sort of huffs, annoyed as always whenever Sam tries to be the one to take care of him instead of the other way around, but he lets Sam pull him in and rests his forehead against Sam's shoulder.

"It's not true, you know. What you said," Sam says, sliding his arms around Dean's back and resting his chin on the top of Dean's head. He'll never say it out loud, because Dean would probably kick his ass, but sometimes Sam likes that Dean's so much smaller than him. He likes that Dean fits so perfectly in this spot, pressed up against Sam's chest and tucked under Sam's chin. In a weird way, it makes Sam feel like he's keeping Dean safe like Dean always does for him.

"What did I say?"

"That I don't care about anything but revenge. It isn't about revenge, I just … I mean, it is. But also I just want this to be over."

"I know you do," Dean says softly. "I do too."

"And I care about you," Sam adds. "So much."

"So much that you're willing to get yourself killed taking this thing down?" Dean asks, a note of disbelief and hurt in his voice, pulling back enough so he can look up into Sam's eyes. "So much that you don't care if you die and leave me here without you?"

Sam sighs again, Dean's vulnerability tugging at his heartstrings. "I won't get myself killed, okay? I promise."

"You can't promise that," Dean argues.

"Okay, I … no, I can't. That's nothing new, I mean, every time we hunt something we risk our lives. But you were right, before. Killing the demon isn't worth dying for. I wouldn't even _want_ to kill the damn thing if it meant I wouldn't have you at the end of it."

Dean rolls his eyes again, but he also smiles so Sam can tell his message got through, even if it makes Dean uncomfortable to hear things like that. He kisses Dean, gently at first but it deepens quickly, and Sam lets himself get lost in it for just a few minutes before he reluctantly pulls away.

"C'mon," he murmurs into Dean's slick lips. "Let's go find Dad. And then let's kick this demon right in the ass, so maybe one day we can find something new to fight about."


End file.
